


Pervert's Guide to Psychoanalysis

by SemicircleJones



Category: Historical RPF, Super Science Friends
Genre: Cat Jung, Historical Figures, Hypnosis, M/M, NSFW, Psychoanalysis, Sexual Roleplay, Therapy, crack ship, enemies to lovers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 04:03:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemicircleJones/pseuds/SemicircleJones
Summary: Carl Jung is invited to Freud's office to disprove one of his old mentor's theories. As a rival in the sphere of early psychoanalysis, Jung is adamant to prove that not everything unconscious is sexual, as Freud seems to believe. However, after only a few minutes of hypnosis in Freud's office, both Doctors are met with a surprise that neither of them anticipated...





	Pervert's Guide to Psychoanalysis

**Author's Note:**

> One of the first fics I've ever written. It was shat into being when I was bored in AP Psych in highschool. I considered emailing it to my teacher but my better judgement decided not to. Now it's just a nostalgic relic of how deranged I was back then. Inspired by neko Jung from the Super Science Friends fandom.

As Dr. Jung lies stiffly down on the ottoman in Freud's unusually darkened office, he begins to feel an uncharacteristic sense of uneasiness creep into him. Staring at Freud's illuminated features under the glow of a single desk lamp, he tries to remember why he agreed to this at all. To prove that he wasn't easily hypnotized, he supposes. It was all strictly clinical research, and for him, a way to debunk Freud's popular assertion that he could "resurface repressed desires by bringing the mind into an altered state" which he added "he especially could stand to benefit from." 

He couldn't help but wonder... What if Freud was right, what if it was possible that the Austrian doctor could make him unconsciously reveal his secret... Jung knows deep down that his baser mind harbored unexplored desires that he could hardly admit having even to himself. But the self-contained giddiness in Freud's eyes only kindled the itch of competition in Jung. He watches the older Austrian ready his notepad and utensils as he tries to shake his feeling of impending doom and supplement it with his usual arrogant determination. Shifting about uncomfortably, he decides to sort a few things out before the procedure begins. 

"You really think you can easily uncover the unconscious through words and suggestion alone? Even the notion is a mockery of what we do as psychologists," he snorted, "When this fails, we'll see which one of us is really the nutcase."

Freud looks at him calmly. "I hold fast to my theory that the unconscious is ruled by hidden sexual desires and perversions. I only want to see what's in yours." Freud tries to hide the subtle, ticklish grin on his lips as he takes another puff from his cigar. 

Jung scoffs and retorts, "How ridiculous, it's obvious your theories hold no real-" but Freud cuts him off. 

"Shh, Doctor. You must relax now. Close your eyes and focus on my voice. "

Dr Jung reluctantly allows his eyes to fall shut. Slowly but surely, the warm, darkened atmosphere and hypnotic sound of the clock ticking back and forth, moving in circles gradually forward in time, begins to drown out all other thoughts and ensnare him in their rhythmic trance. Then joining them as a singer would enter a song, the sound of Freud's voice, unusually low and brooding, begins to move along seamlessly to the flow of sound. 

"I can see you are getting very...calm... Very... relaxed... Listen to me, now.... I am your guide... " Freud feels a hint of satisfaction when he notices the change in pace of Jung's breath. 

"Now, I want you to show me your true self... Underneath everything... Tell me, Carl... The essence of all that you are... "

  


"Meow," the utterance that escaped Dr. Jung left him surprised, and he opened his mouth to correct himself. "M-mmrrroww... " he began to flex his fingers and move his hips against the leather ottoman. Mortified, Jung attempted to resist the incoming transformation. No, there was no way his "true self" was this... A cat... In heat, no less... 

But the worst part was that he had always known this. On slow days in his office when he was sure no one else was around, he would sometimes meow to himself and knead his hands into his stack of papers while curled around his chair. He had always renounced this habit of his, but now he could feel himself growing weaker to the staggeringly powerful desire to surrender to it.

"How interesting..." Freud murmurs to himself as he leans forward, fixing his glasses to better observe the fascinating spectacle, and looks down to write his findings feverishly in his notepad. He can't help but notice that the way Jung's black turtleneck conforms to his slender form looks uncannily feline, his mustache almost like small twitching whiskers, how his round eyes narrowed as he stands on four legs perched on the ottoman. Jung fixes his predatory gaze on Freud, seething with hatred and a strange desire. He watches him write, flicking his imaginary tail back in forth in wait. 

"So I see there is much you have left unresolved..." Freud sits as he records his results, grinning triumphantly that his experiment had proved a success, just as expected, when he is suddenly knocked senseless from his chair. 

Jung pounces on him, clawing at the doctor’s tweed coat and digging his teeth into the skin under Freud's chin. Freud lets out a cry of surprise and pulls the rabid Jung from his neck, holding him back as he paws at the air, hissing with frustration with his skin bristling. Freud, with a snicker of secret delight, tosses him to the floor and runs towards the door of his office frantically. Jung chases after him, knocking down the ottoman and sending his notebook papers flying. He finally stalks him into a corner of the office, and Freud looks strangely amused. 

"Eros and Thanatos, the desire for sex and the desire to kill are the most basic drives of our nature... And are fundamentally one in the same, just as I thought." 

"Rrrrowww... Hhhisss..."

Freud watches with feigned helplessness as Jung inches with measured steps closer to him. Freud prepares for the worst as Jung grabs him by the neck, holding down the struggling doctor as he opens his hot, drooling mouth and slithers his tongue across his face, lapping and chewing hungrily at his cheek and down his neck, pulling at his coat and this time successfully tearing it off his writhing body with one clawed hand clutching the doctor’s windpipe. 

"Ahhh... Mother....Mother!" Freud cries out between choking rasps. 

Excited by this, Jung begins to purr softly as he unbuttons Freud and licks down into his trousers, hungry for more of the Viennese doctor’s skin in his teeth. Jung can see how Freud masks his enjoyment by making feeble gestures to escape between gradually more emphatic moans. 

"This is perfect research... Just perfect... the unconscious manifests hatred as sexual desire...Yes, my hypothesis was always correct..." Freud tries to continue as Jung presses harder on his neck to silence him. 

He listens to his muffled cries with an eerie satisfaction as he forces Freud into his mouth, sucking and twisting his lips around him. He grinds his painfully stiff erection against Freud's leg with frantic desperation like an animal clinging to its only prey. The younger doctor is overcome with a mixture of resentment and a creeping humiliation as he notices the eyes of his former mentor looking down at him, still clinical and mentally recording every one of his derangedly desperate movements. He can feel his face grow hot with embarrassment at the burgeoning realization that he is the helpless one, at the mercy of his own insatiable desire. Knowing he would give his life just to be able to hump against something, anything, to relieve himself of this dreadful gnawing feeling... but despite it all, the pleasure of this humiliating feeling, yes, the pleasure, he just wanted it to last.

Freud breaks his arm free of Jung's loosening grip to snap his fingers suddenly, the sound of it making Jung's ears prick as it rings through his mind and causes his tightened muscles to fall limp. 

"Now... I can see you are getting very excited ... But you must follow my voice now... " Freud slithers out from under the limp Jung and produces a feathered quill pen from the pocket of his now disheveled coat, waving it teasingly over Jung's eyes. The hypnotized doctor's pupils move back and forth, rolling like clocks and fixedly staring at the pretty white feather barely tickling his nose. 

“I let you have your fun. Now it's my turn to play with you." Freud snaps his fingers again and Jung's eyes widen and spring to life, his hands beginning to paw at the toy frenziedly. Freud swiftly evades it from his reach just as Jung almost has it between his claws, and watches, giddy with conceited laughter and lust as the grown man continues to swat at it determinedly.

  


Freud brings the feather down to the imploring swell between Jung's legs, opening his pants to trace along the head of his leaking prick with the slightest hint of the feather's touch. Jung can feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise with heightened sensitivity while he drags his fingers across the carpet. 

"You see I was right after all... The unconscious is ruled by sexual urges, now do you agree, Jung?" Freud's eyelids lower at Jung's desperate mewling, his penis futilely twitching towards the feather's touch. 

"Now tell me how you are just a horny little creature governed by your id who just wants to be touched by his superior," Jung opens his mouth to hiss at the suggestion, but he can't help but purr as Freud strokes him under his chin and between his legs. He finds himself able to speak slowly and briefly under the spell of Freud's hypnotic touch,

"yes, doctorrrr...you were right... Thisss is what I've wanted alll along... "

  


"Yes, Carl... I know it is...." Freud gives Jung another pat on the head and strokes him along his slowly arching back. "This is the reason why anyone does anything; our hunger for sex motivates us, excites us, irritates us... You've simply been too uptight to accept this scientific fact. I'm glad to see you've learned... " 

Freud grins slightly as he reaches into his pocket. But as soon as he lowers the feather into his drawer, Jung catches sight of what Freud has in hand. The feline Jung, fickle as he is, bristles at the sight of what the Austrian doctor now has clasped tightly between his fingers. A leather collar, complete with two jingling bells hanging from its formidably tight neck, the sound of its ringing irritating the now hissing cat Jung. He crawls backwards, digging his claws into the carpet at the thought of being tamed and domesticated by his intellectual enemy. 

Freud clicks his tongue to beckon the feral Jung onto his lap while speaking in a high-pitched tone, "Come now, don't be a sour puss."

Jung's pupils narrow like a vengeful tomcat as he scurries away from capture and over to the desk where he leaps onto its surface. A rather devious scheme surfaces in Jung as he fixes his eyes on Freud's research papers, specifically the notebook that contains the records of his hypnosis study. He was going to mark his territory on it, claiming it with his scent to conquer Freud once and for all and this time he didn't need proof or reason. Jung assumes a crouching position as he lowers his penis slowly into the space between its smooth pages. He can see the markings scribbled clearly in ink, reading: " a fascinating discovery, revolutionary! The patient is regressing into a primitive, specifically feline state. These findings have clearly disproven Dr. Jung's assumption that hypnosis has no effect.. . "

Jung sighs as the warm urine passes through him. The caustic bliss of it he could feel in his very blood, the knot of self-contained tension from inside his abdomen unraveling. He watches his clear fluids run into the black ink, smearing and obscuring the letters to carry them away in his hot stream one by one. It was almost vindictively poetic to him, how his clear fluids mixed with the opaque ink and dripped away the meaning of Freud's words. The two liquids melting together was vaguely erotic, spreading into vein-like stains across the wet paper like a Rorschach ink blot test.

Freud watches and chuckles softly with an unnerving smile and Jung stares blankly back, confused by this reaction. Freud pulls out a whistle from the pocket of his trousers and blows it through his pursed lips.

The flat, echoing tone interrupts the mounting pleasure in Jung while his mind seems to come awake. He suddenly becomes aware of his meowing, his cat-like pose, and the piss still leaking out of him, and his confusingly sharp arousal. His heart races with flustered confusion as he rushes to button his pants and brush off the urine still staining his clothes. When the confusion passes, it is replaced by a mortified coming to his senses while he remembers with, much embarrassed disbelief, all of what he had just done. His eyes fix on Freud, seething with anger.

"Y-you did this to me... W.. With your disgustingly crass 'hypnosis' methods, you manipulated me! I'll have you know this should be illegal..." Jung stuttered through his words.

"Actually, Dr. Jung, it seems you were right all along."

The flustered psychologist blinks. "W-what do you mean? "

"Hypnosis doesn't work. I didn't use any real hypnotism techniques on you. You were convinced yourself it would have an effect on you. Everything you did was of your own will."

Again, Jung is rendered speechless because he knows what his former mentor just said is true. Freud grins with boyish delight again as he opens his bottom desk drawer and pulls out a pair of mouse ears, and fixes it onto his head. 

"Now, I have this other theory I'd like you to help me prove, its about archetypes of the collective unconscious... "


End file.
